War Comes to Arwen
by LunaEvenstar
Summary: Inspiration: In early drafts of the movie, Arwen was supposed to show up at Helm's Deep. This is my take on that idea. I'm not trying to turn her into a warrior princess, but I plan to give her a bigger role in the war, as the title suggests.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Both the basic premise and the details of this story are based on the movies, so don't flame me for saying that Arwen rescued Frodo. I KNOW Glorfindel rescued him in the book! Also, this is my first fic ever, but you don't have to go easy on me in your reviews. After all, I am trying to become a better writer. Enjoy!**

The sun had not yet risen when Arwen Undómiel began her ride to Helm's Deep. Still, she donned a plain cloak that concealed her pointed ears and most of her face. It also hid several items: a bow and some arrows, a small knife, and plenty of Lembas in case the trip took longer than expected. But the most important thing in her possession- the entire reason for her journey- was the sword Andúril, reforged from the shattered remains of Narsil.

Almost anyone else would have felt afraid to bear such a treasure, but Arwen rode confidently, knowing that she had carried something-someone-yet more significant. Yes, Frodo Baggins himself had sat upon this horse, and Arwen had protected him from the Black Riders. Delivering a sword to Aragorn could not possibly be more difficult.

Sure enough, the elf made her trip to Helm's Deep with no interruption, save a few water breaks for her horse, Asfaloth. Upon arrival, Arwen removed the hood of her cloak and slowly entered.

She glanced around. There were many people, yet not one whose face she knew. They were mainly women and children, who, as she would later find out, who had taken refuge there under the orders of King Théoden.

As she rode towards the Hornburg, the great fortress within, she began to spot more men, mainly Rohirrim, who seemed to think that Arwen was one of them, for they did not look upon her long enough to notice her smooth face and Elvish features. Nevertheless, she took comfort in their presence; it meant that Aragorn should be nearby.

Her heart ached with the thought. She had given little consideration to the matter before, but now that she was so close to seeing her beloved, she realized just how much she missed him. Each day after the Fellowship's departure from Rivendell had seemed to last an eternity, and Arwen almost knew what that felt like. She had lived over 2700 years, and had grown up with the idea that she would never die. Now that she was mortal, she was finally beginning to process what a long time this was...

"Lady Arwen?"

The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn't Aragorn's. She looked around, trying to figure out where it was coming from.

"Who is speaking?" she called.

"Down here." Arwen looked down and saw Legolas.

"Where is Aragorn?" she asked him.

"And good day to you to, milady," Legolas replied pertly. _He must be learning manners from that dwarf, Gimli_, Arwen thought, rolling her eyes inwardly. On the outside, however, she maintained a polite demeanor.

"Legolas, this is a serious matter. I must see Aragorn immediately. There is something very important that I need to give to him."

"If you mean that necklace he lost, I already found and returned it."

"That is not what I mean." She did not even think to ask why the necklace had been lost.

"What is it, then?"

Arwen glanced over her shoulder. A small crowd had begun to form. She did not want to reveal such a great treasure in front of them.

"I shall dismount. Then I will show you," she replied.

Legolas gestured for a few men to take care of Asfaloth once Arwen had dismounted. The she-elf took care to grab all her things before leading Legolas away from the others.

"What is it?" Legolas repeated.

Arwen swiftly pulled the sword out of its sheath. Startled, Legolas jumped back. Arwen looked at him solemnly. "Behold, Andúril," she whispered.

Fully understanding the situation now, Legolas promised to find Aragorn as quickly as possible, then scampered off, looking slightly embarrassed. Arwen put the sword away, not wanting to accidentally unleash its power prematurely. It was a strange feeling, holding a sword. She knew how to use one as well as the best warriors, but she had never needed to, not even at the Ford...

"Mára aurë," greeted Aragorn. Arwen looked up. She tried to remain calm, but the longing, the hurt, the sweet pain inside poured out, and she embraced him passionately.

"Im gelir ceni ad lín," she whispered, slowly letting him go.

Aragorn smiled. In one swift motion, he pulled her gently towards himself and kissed her. Arwen silently wished that he would never stop. She wanted to lose herself in the joy. She wanted to die this way, happier than any of her kin had been or ever would be. Then she remembered the sword. Very reluctantly, she pulled away.

"I have something for you," she told Aragorn. She pulled Andúril out from her cloak and handed it to him. "Your sword. It is reforged."

Aragorn stared at her, slightly bewildered. After a few moments, he managed a weak, "Thank you," but Arwen could see the momentary glimmer of fear in his eyes, for they both knew well that the sword would have to endure many, many battles.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in her life, Arwen was terribly bored. She couldn't simply leave the fortress and return to Rivendell; it would give her father false hope. On the other hand, she had nothing useful to do in Rohan. Whenever she tried to help with supplies or tend to the many children, the people wouldn't allow her.

"Oh, no, a lady of your standing deserves comfort," one woman insisted when Arwen offered to wash clothes. The elleth did not understand how her blood could be an entitlement anymore. She had already committed to suffer the pains on the earth and die just as any of the Men would.

Sighing, Arwen left and went for a stroll, hoping the air would sooth her spirit. But as she passed by the bustling folk, the mild breeze faltered and she got the uncomfortable feeling that, once again, all eyes were upon her. The younger women ceased their chatter, the men in armor ceased to move at all, and even the animals appeared to lower their heads in reverence.

She continued walking despite her discomfort at so much attention. _I must be patient with them_, the she-elf thought. _ Many of them have never seen one of my kind_. But she couldn't help but feel a bit hurt as one child warned her younger sister, "Don't get too close to 'er. She's a witch and she may curse you."

The more mature younglings, though old enough to understand the difference between a crone and an Elvish woman, still whispered amongst themselves, occasionally speaking short phrases that Arwen could just hear: "Too beautiful", "She makes me sad", "I'm scared that..."

Arwen suddenly stopped herself. If she was going to dwell with Men for the remaining decades of her life, she wanted them to love her, not be afraid. Turning to face the now-silent people, she bowed gracefully.

"I would like to thank every man, woman, and child for permitting me to take refuge in the Hornburg on the eve of battle. My people have formed a strong alliance with yours and I hope it remains until the end of the Age of the Elves."

The elleth paused to swiftly brush away the tear that had begun to flow against her porcelain skin. "I only ask that you treat me as you would a lady of Rohan. You need not be intimidated by my presence. I chose to come here because I want to assist your knights and care for your innocents. I know how to forge a sword and heal the ill. I am a fast rider and a competent tracker. I am strong enough to bear heavy burdens…" _In more than one sense, too_, Arwen thought.

She raised her voice. "I intend to stay here no matter how dangerous the grounds become. I want to help win this war." As she spoke, several of the Rohirrim turned to each other, as if realizing the significance of the alliance for the first time.

Arwen took a deep breath. "I fight for love, just as all of you do. I have looked into the future, and yes, there is death, but there is also life!" Still facing the crowd, she allowed herself to weep silently. The women and children had begun crying long ago, and, although she could not see their faces very well, she suspected the men were too. _ "Not all tears are evil"_, she heard an ancient voice whisper.

"I fight-" she choked. She swallowed. "I fight for those I love! For whom do you fight?"

A young boy, no taller than one of the Halflings, rose to his feet and cried, "For my father, who fell in battle!"

The boy's mother, cradling a baby in one arm, took a step towards her son. "For my children, that they may live to see days of peace!"

Somebody began to clap loudly. Others sprung to life as well, shouting the names of their kin, their dearest friends, and the king. One voice rose above the rest with a determined cry of "FOR ROHAN!" The crowd began to echo him, the sound carrying to the farthest corners of Helm's Deep. Then, unexpectedly, another voice yelled, "For the Evenstar!"

Nobody was as surprised as Arwen herself. How did this man, whoever he was, know that she was Undómiel? Even as she pondered the question, the rest of the spectators repeated the cry: "FOR THE EVENSTAR! FOR THE EVENSTAR!"

Arwen stood speechless, mainly because she had momentarily forgotten her knowledge of the Common Tongue. "_Rim hennaid_..." she finally said. "_Garo arad vaer_."

She turned and began to walk again. This time, she could hear the murmur of footsteps behind her. "Evenstar, Evenstar!" the little children chanted. A deeper voice suddenly joined in. Arwen spun around. "Legolas! That was you?"

He looked at her, his lips in a straight line, his eyes laughing. "I reckoned that you would want to be in charge of something, _mellon_, so I saved you some work." The elf pulled out a twisted metallic abomination. "This sword is a disaster. Some poor lad tried to forge it on his own so he could fight, and, well, it needs some adjustments." Arwen took the blade gingerly. "After you have fixed it," Legolas continued, "you should help polish all the armor. These children will show you where to go."

The group's self-appointed leader, a lass of about fourteen summers, smiled at Arwen. "Come, pretty lady. The others will be glad to see you."

Arwen smiled too, relieved that she finally felt needed. "Thank you, Legolas," she whispered before heading off with the children.


End file.
